"Pale Night, my Pale Night! Take me away, Pale Night!"
Slaanesh writhed in his seat. Like an agile snake in the mountains, the Prince of Pleasure rubbed his belly hard against it, positioning the spot three inches below his belly against a sharp corner of the chair and grinding vigorously. His expression alternated between heavenly bliss and the look of someone plunging into the Abyss.
For Slaanesh, however, whether he ascended to heaven or fell into the Abyss, there was only one answer.
It felt so damn good.
"Pale Night, I really, really like you! For you, I'm going to sing 'Cat Addiction'~"
Many strange paintings surrounded Slaanesh. The scenes in every one were bizarre, hideous, and twisted enough to drive any mortal with a slightly fragile mind insane on the spot.
Apparently, these were Slaanesh's attempts to recreate Pale Night's true visage. Yet, both excited and dejected, Slaanesh admitted that he could not reproduce her appearance at all.
Even so, good old Slaanesh kept working away. He had produced over a hundred paintings, each depicting a different version of Pale Night's face, but they all had one thing in common-at midnight, the bodies of Slaaneshi Daemons would gradually emerge from them.
"Scrolled back to watch it again, adorable Pale Night's classic~"
"Alone in an empty theater, I saw her again~"
"Ha~ ha~ dead~"
"Bleurgh!" Slaanesh vomited another great mouthful.
"How long has he been like this?" Aaron asked Tzeentch, staring speechlessly at good old Slaanesh's one-man show.
"Who knows? Heeheeheehee~" Tzeentch twisted himself into a six-pointed star again. The Lord of Change declared ecstatically, "Perhaps he's always been like this. Slaanesh's shadow never moves; Slaanesh's shadow moves ten thousand ways!"
"Never mind him." Khorne's expression was fanatical. "Do you remember your last offering?"
"The Battle of Arabel? Gruumsh?" Aaron